755 


m 


2-NRLF 


EMS    7fl7 


MR.    BLAKE'S 


WALKING-STICK 


A  CHRISTMAS  STORY  FOR  BOYS  AXD  GIRLS. 


BY   EDWARD    EGGLESTON, 
U 

AUTHOR   OF 

'  THE    ROUND  TABLE  STORIES,"    "THE  CHICKEN    LITTLE  STORIES/' 
"STORIES  TOLD  ON   A  CELLAR   DOOR,"  ETC 


CHICAGO  : 
ADAMS,  BLACKMER,  £  LYON  PUBLISHING  CO. 

1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870, 

BY   ADAMS,   BLACKMER,  &   LYON   PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTYPED  AND   PRINTED   BY 

H.    O.    HOUGHTON    AND   COMPANY. 


TO  OUR 


LITTLE   SILVERHAIR 


Who  used  to   listen  to   My  Stories; 


BUT   WHO    IS    NOW 


Htstenfng  to  tl)e  ^Ttjrfstmas  Stovfes  of  t|)e  Angela, 

THIS   BOOK   IS   DEDICATED. 


906806 


PREFACE. 

/  have  meant  tQ  furnish  a  book  that  would  serve 
for  a  Christmas  present  to  Sunday -scholars,  either 
from  the  school  or  from  their  teachers.  I  hope  it 
is  a  story,  however,  appropriate  to  all  seasons,  and 
that  it  will  enforce  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
one  of  the  most  frequently  forgotten  precepts  of  the 
Lord  Jesus. 

EDWARD   EGGLESTON. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  WALKING-STICK  WALKS n 

CHAPTER  II. 

LONG-HEADED  WILLIE 20 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE  WALKING-STICK  A  TALKING  STICK      ...        25 

CHAPTER   IV. 

MR.  BLAKE  AGREES  WITH  THE  WALKING-STICK         .        31 

CHAPTER   V. 

THE  FATHER  PREACHES,  THE  SON  PRACTICES     .        .        36 

CHAPTER  VI. 

SIXTY-FIVE  DOLLARS 39 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  WIDOW  AND  THE  FATHERLESS      ....        44 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

SHARPS  AND  BETWEENS 51 


TO 


Contents. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  ANGEL  STAYS  THE  HAND .re 

CHAPTER  X 


TOMMY  PUFFER 


AN  ODD  PARTY 


CHAPTER  XL 


57 


Ma  BLAKE'S  WALKING-STICK. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    WALKING-STICK   WALKS. 

rlOME  mterf  -carry  c-ines.  ,  -Sonae  men  make 
the  cancb  carry  them.  I  '  never  could  tell 
just* what,  Mr*  Bla'k^  ;cayrj<£d  fois  cane  for. 
I  am  sure  it  did  not  often  feel  his  weight.  For  he 
was  neither  old,  nor  rich,  nor  lazy. 

He  was  a  tall,  straight  man,  who  walked  as  if  he 
loved  to  walk,  with  a  cheerful  tread  that  was  good 
to  see.  I  am  sure  he  didn't  carry  the  cane  for 
show.  It  was  not  one  of  those  little  sickly  yellow 
things,  that  some  men  nurse  as  tenderly  as  Miss 
Snooks  nurses  her  lap-dog.  It  was  a  great  black 
stick  of  solid  ebony,  with  a  box-wood  head,  and  I 
think  Mr.  Blake  carried  it  for  company.  And  it 
had  a  face,  like  that  of  an  old  man,  carved  on  one 


12  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

side  of  the  box-wood  head.  Mr.  Blake  kept  it 
ringing  in  a  hearty  way  upon  the  pavement  as  he 
walked,  and  the  boys  would  look  up  from  their 
marbles  when  they  heard  it,  and  say :  "  There 
comes  Mr.  Blake,  the  minister !  "  And  I  think  that 
nearly  every  invalid  and  poor  person  in  Thornton 
knew  the  cheerful  voice  of  the  minister's  stout  ebony 
stick. 

It  was  a  clear,  crisp,  sunshiny  morning  in  Decem- 
ber. The  leaves  were  all  gone,  and  the  long  lines 
of  white  frame  houses  that  were  hid  away  in  the 
thick  trees  during  the  summer,  showed  themselves 
standing  in  straight  rows  lioXv  that  the  trees  were 
bare.  Anc1  Purser,  Pont'tlcfe  Co.  s  great  factory  on 
the  brook  in  the  valley  below  was  plainly  to  be 
seen,  with  its  long  rows  of  windows  shining  and 
shimmering  in  the  brilliant  sun,  and  its  brick 
chimney  reached  up  like  the  Tower  of  Babel,  and 
poured  out  a  steady  stream  of  dense,  black  smoke. 

It  was  just  such  a  shining  winter  morning.  Mr. 
Blake  and  his  walking-stick  were  just  starting  out  for 
a  walk  together.  "  It's  a  fine  morning,"  thought  the 
minister,  as  he  shut  the  parsonage  gate.  And  when 
he  struck  the  cane  sharply  on  the  stones  it  answered 
him  cheerily :  "  It's  a  fine  morning  ! "  The  cane 


The  Walking-Stick  Walks.  13 

always  agreed  with  Mr.  Blake.  So  they  were  able 
to  walk  together,  according  to  Scripture,  because 
they  were  agreed. 

Just  as  he  came  round  the  corner  the  minister 
found  a  party  of  boys  waiting  for  him.  They  had 
already  heard  the  cane  remarking  that  it  was  a  fine 
morning  before  Mr.  Blake  came  in  sight. 

"  Good  morning !  Mr.  Blake,"  said  the  three 
boys. 

"Good  morning,  my  boys;  I'm  glad  to  see  you," 
said  the  minister,  and  he  clapped  "Old  Ebony" 
down  on  the  sidewalk,  and  it  said  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  Mr.  Blake ! "  said  Fred  White,  scratching  his 
brown  head  and  looking  a  little  puzzled.  "  Mr. 
Blake,  if  it  ain't  any  harm  — if  you  don't  mind,  you 
know,  telling  a  fellow,  —  a  boy,  I  mean  —  "  Just 
here  he  stopped  talking ;  for  though  he  kept  on 
scratching  vigorously,  no  more  words  would  come  ; 
and  comical  Sammy  Bantam,  who  stood  alongside, 
whispered,  "  Keep  a-scratching,  Fred ;  the  old  cow 
will  give  down  after  a  while  !  " 

Then  Fred  laughed,  and  the  other  boys,  and  the 
minister  laughed,  and  the  cane  could  do  nothing  but 
stamp  its  foot  in  amusement. 


14  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

"  Well,  Fred,"  said  the  minister,  "  What  is  it  ? 
speak  out."  But  Fred  couldn't  speak  now  for 
laughing,  and  Sammy  had  to  do  the  talking  himself. 
He  was  a  stumpy  boy,  who  had  stopped  off  short; 
and  you  couldn't  guess  his  age,  because  his  face  was 
so  much  older  than  his  body. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Blake,"  said  Sammy,  "we  boys 
wanted  to  know, — if  there  wasn't  any  harm  in  your 
telling,  —  why,  we  wanted  to  know  what  kind  of  a 

thing  we    are,  going   to    have    on    Christmas  at  our 

I 
Sunday-school." 

"  Well,  boys,  I  don't  know  any  more  about  it  yet 
than  you  do.  The  teachers  will  talk  it  over  at  their 
next  meeting.  They  have  already  settled  some 
things,  but  I  have  not  heard  what." 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  something  good  to  eat,"  said 
Tommy  Puffer.  Tommy's  body  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  a  pudding-bag.  It  was  an  india-rubber 
pudding-bag,  though.  I  shouldn't  like  to  say  that 
Tommy  was  a  glutton.  Not  at  all.  But  I  am  sure 
that  no  boy  of  his  age  could  put  out  of  sight,  in  the 
same  space  of  time,  so  many  dough-nuts,  ginger- 
snaps,  tea-cakes,  apple-dumplings,  pumpkin-pies, 
jelly-tarts,  puddings,  ice-creams,  raisins,  nuts,  and 
other  things  of  the  sort.  Other  people  stared  at  him 


The  Walking- Stick  Walks.  15 

in  wonder.  He  was  never  too  full  to  take  anything 
that  was  offered  him,  and  at  parties  his  weak  and 
foolish  mother  was  always  getting  all  she  could  to 
stuff  Tommy  with.  So  when  Tommy  said  he  hoped 
it  would  be  something  nice  to  eat,  and  rolled  his 
soft  lips  about,  as  though  he  had  a  cream  tart  in  his 
mouth,  all  the  boys  laughed,  and  Mr.  Blake  smiled. 
I  think  even  the  cane  would  have  smiled  if  it  had 
thought  it  polite. 

"  I  hope  it'll  be  something  pleasant,"  said  Fred 
Welch. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  stumpy  little  Tommy  Bantam. 

"  So  do  I,  boys,"  said  Mr.  Blake,  as  he  turned 
away ;  and  all  the  way  down  the  block  Old  Ebony 
kept  calling  back,  "  So  do  I,  boys  !  so  do  I  ! " 

Mr.  Blake  and  his  friend  the  cane  kept  on  down 
the  street,  until  they  stood  in  front  of  a  building 
that  was  called  "The  Yellow  Row."  It  was  a  long, 
two-story  frame  building,  that  had  once  been  inhab- 
ited by  genteel  people.  Why  they  ever  built  it  in 
that  shape,  or  why  they  daubed  it  with  yellow  paint, 
is  more  than  I  can  tell.  But  it  had  gone  out  of 
fashion,  and  now  it  was,  as  the  boys  expressed  it, 
"  seedy."  Old  hats  and  old  clothes  filled  many  of 
the  places  once  filled  by  glass.  Into  one  room  of 
this  row  Mr.  Blake  entered,  saying  :  — 


1 6  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

"  How  are  you,  Aunt  Parm'ly  ?  " 

"  Howd'y,  Mr.  Blake,  howd'y  !  I  know'd  you  was 
a-comin',  honey,  fer  I  hyeard  the  sound  of  yer  cane 
afore  you  come  in.  I'm  mis'able  these  yer  days, 
thank  you.  I'se  got  a  headache,  an'  a  backache, 
and  a  toothache  in  de  boot.'' 

I  suppose  the  poor  old  colored  woman  meant  to 
say  that  she  had  a  toothache  "  to  boot." 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Blake,  Jane's  got  a  little  sumpin 
to  do  now,  and  we  can  git  bread  enough,  thank  the 
Lord,  but  as  fer  coal,  that's  the  hardest  of  all.  We 
has  to  buy  it  by  the  bucketful,  and  that's  mity  high 
at  fifteen  cents  a  bucket.  An'  pears  like  we  couldn't 
never  git  nothin'  a-head  on  account  of  my  roomatiz. 
Where  de  coal's  to  come  from  dis  ere  winter  I  don't 
know,  cep  de  good  Lord  sends  it  down  out  of  the 
sky  -,  and  I  reckon  stone-coal  don't  never  come  dat 
dar  road." 

After  some  more  talk,  Mr.  Blake  went  in  to  see 
Peter  Sitles,  the  blind  broom-maker. 

"  I  hyeard  yer  stick,  preacher  Blake,"  said  Sitles. 
"  That  air  stick  o'  yourn's  better'n  a  whole  rigimint 
of  doctors  fer  the  blues.  An'  I've  been  a  havin'  on 
the  blues  powerful  bad,  Mr.  Blake,  these  yer  last 
few  days.  I  remembered  what  you  was  a-saying  the 


The  Walking-Stick  Walks.  17 

last  time  you  was  here,  about  trustin'  of  the  good 
Lord.  But  I've  had  a  purty  consid'able  heartache 
under  my  jacket  fer  all  that.  Now,  there's  that  Ben 
of  mine/'  and  here  Sitles  pointed  to  a  restless  little 
fellow  of  nine  years  old,  whose  pants  had  been 
patched  and  pieced  until  they  had  more  colors  than 
Joseph's  coat.  He  was  barefoot,  ragged,  and  looked 
hungry,  as  some  poor  children  always  do.  Their 
minds  seem  hungrier  than  their  bodies.  He  was 
rocking  a  baby  in  an  old  cradle.  "There's  Ben," 
continued  the  blind  man,  "  he's  as  peart  a  boy  as 
you  ever  see,  preacher  Blake,  ef  I  do  say  it  as  hadn't 
orter  say  it.  Bennie  hain't  got  no  clothes.  I  can't 
beg.  But  Ben  orter  be  in  school."  Here  Peter 
Sitles  choked  a  little. 

u  How's  broom-making,  Peter  ?  "  said  the  min- 
ister. 

"  Well,  you  see,  it's  the  machines  as  is  a-spoiling 
us.  The  machines  make  brooms  cheap,  and  what 
can  a  blind  feller  like  me  do  agin  the  machines  with 
nothing  but  my  fingers  ?  'Tain't  no  sort  o'  use  to 
butt  my  head  agin  the  machines,  when  I  ain't  got  no 
eyes  nother.  It's  like  a  goat  trying  its  head  on  a 
locomotive.  Ef  I  could  only  eddicate  Peter  and  the 
other  two,  I'd  be  satisfied.  You  see,  I  never  had  no 


1 8  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

book-larnin'  myself,  and  I  can't  talk  proper  no  more'n 
a  cow  can  climb  a  tree." 

"  But,  Mr.  Sitles,  how  much  would  a  broom-ma- 
chine cost  you  ?  "  asked  the  minister. 

"  More'n  it's  any  use  to  think  on.  It'll  cost  sev- 
enty dollars,  and  if  it  cost  seventy  cents  'twould  be 
jest  exactly  seventy  cents  more'n  I  could  afford  to 
pay.  For  the  money  my  ole  woman  gits  fer  washin' 
don't  go  noways  at  all  towards  feedin'  the  four  chil- 
dren, let  alone  buying  me  a  machine." 

The  minister  looked  at  his  cane,  but  it  did  not 
answer  him.  Something  must  be  done.  The  min- 
ister was  sure  of  that.  Perhaps  the  walking-stick 
was,  too.  But  what  ? 

That  was  the  question. 

The  minister  told  Sitles  good-bye,  and  started  to 
make  other  visits.  And  on  the  way  the  cane  kept 
crying  out,  "  Something  must  be  done,  —  something 
MUST  be  done,  —  something  MUST  be  done,"  mak- 
ing the  must  ring  out  sharper  every  time.  When 
Mr.  Blake  and  the  walking-stick  got  to  the  market- 
house,  just  as  they  turned  off  from  Milk  Street  into 
the  busier  Main  Street,  the  cane  changed  its  tune 
and  begun  to  say,  "  But  what,  —  but  what,  —  but 
WHAT, — but  WHAT," 'until  it  said  it  so  sharply 


The  Walking- Stick  Walks.  19 

that  the  minister's  head  ached,  and  he  put  Old 
Ebony  under  his  arm,  so  that  it  couldn't  talk  any 
more.  It  was  a  way  he  had  of  hushing  it  up  when 
he  wanted  to  think. 


CHAPTER   II. 

L  ONG-HEA  DED     WILLIE. 

E  biskits  is  cold,  and  de  steaks  is  cold 
as  —  as  —  ice,  and  dinner's  spiled  !  " 
said  Curlypate,  a  girl  about  three  years 
old,  as  Mr.  Blake  came  in  from  his  forenoon  of 
visiting.  She  tried  to  look  very  much  vexed  and 
"put  out,"  but  there  was  always  either  a  smile  or 
a  cry  hidden  away  in  her  dimpled  cheek. 

"  Pshaw !  Curlypate,'7  said  Mr.  Blake,  as  he  put 
down  his  cane,  "  you  don't  scold  worth  a  cent !  " 
And  he  lifted  her  up  and  kissed  her. 

And  then  Mamma  Blake  smiled,  and  they  all  sat 
down  to  the  table.  While  they  ate,  Mr.  Blake  told 
about  his  morning  visits,  and  spoke  of  Parm'ly  with- 
out coal,  and  Peter  Sitles  with  no  broom-machine, 
and  described  little  Ben  Sitles's  hungry  face,  and 
told  how  he  had  visited  the  widow  Martin,  who  had 
no  sewing-machine,  and  who  had  to  receive  help 
from  the  overseer  of  the  poor.  The  overseer  told 


Long-Headed  Willie.  21 

her  that  she  must  bind  out  her  daughter,  twelve 
years  old,  and  her  boy  of  ten,  if  she  expected  to 
have  any  help ;  and  the  mother's  heart  was  just 
about  broken  at  the  thought  of  losing  her  children. 

Now,  while  all  this  was  taking  place,  Willie  Blake, 
the  minister's  son,  a  boy  about  thirteen  years  of  age, 
sat  by  the  big  porcelain  water-pitcher,  listening  to 
all  that  was  said.  His  deep  blue  eyes  looked  over 
the  pitcher  at  his  father,  then  at  his  mother,  taking 
in  all  their  descriptions  of  poverty  with  a  wondrous 
pitifulness.  But  he  did  not  say  much.  What  went 
on  in  his  long  head  I  do  not  know,  for  his  was  one 
of  those  heads  that  projected  forward  and  back- 
ward, and  the  top  of  which  overhung  the  base,  for  all 
the  world  like  a  load  of  hay.  Now  and  then  his 
mother  looked  at  him,  as  if  she  would  like  to  see 
through  his  skull  and  read  his  thoughts.  But  I  think 
she  didn't  see  anything  but  the  straight,  silken,  fine, 
flossy  hair,  silvery  white,  touched  a  little  bit,  —  only 
a  little,  —  as  he  turned  it  in  looking  from  one  to  the 
other,  with  a  tinge  of  what  people  call  a  golden,  but 
what  is  really  a  sort  of  a  pleasant  straw  color.  He 
usually  talked,  and  asked  questions,  and  laughed 
like  other  boys ;  but  now  he  seemed  to  be  swallowing 
the  words  of  his  father  and  mother  more  rapidly  even 


22  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

than  he  did  his  dinner ;  for,  like  most  boys,  he  ate 
as  if  it  were  a  great  waste  of  time  to  eat.  But  when 
he  was  done  he  did  not  hurry  off  as  eagerly  as  usual 
to  reading  or  to  play.  He  sat  and  listened. 

"What  makes  you  look  so  sober,  Willie?"  asked 
Helen,  his  sister. 

"  What  you  thinkin',  Willie  ? "  said  Curlypate, 
peering  through  the  pitcher  handle  at  him. 

"  Willie,"  broke  in  his  father,  "  mamma  and  I  are 
going  to  a  wedding  out  at  Sugar  Hill "  — 

"  Sugar  Hill  ;  O  my  !  "  broke  in  Curlypate. 

"  Out  at  Sugar  Hill,"  continued  Mr.  Blake,  strok- 
ing the  Curlypate,  "and  as  I  have  some  calls  to 
make,  we  shall  not  be  back  till  bedtime.  I  am  sorry 
to  keep  you  from  your  play  this  Saturday  afternoon, 
but  we  have  no  other  housekeeper  but  you  and 
Helen.  See  that  the  children  get  their  suppers 
early,  and  be  careful  about  fire." 

I  believe  to  "  be  careful  about  fire  "  is  the  last 
command  that  every  parent  gives  to  children  on 
leaving  them  alone. 

Now  I  know  that  people  who  write  stories  are 
very  careful  nowadays  not  to  make  their  boys  too 
good.  I  suppose  that  I  ought  to  represent  Willie  as 
"taking  on"  a  good  deal  when  he  found  that  he 


Long- Headed  Willie.  23 

couldn't  play  all  Saturday  afternoon,  as  he  had  ex- 
pected. But  I  shall  not.  For  one  thing,  at  least, 
in  my  story,  is  true  ;  that  is,  Willie.  If  I  tell  you 
that  he  is  good  you  may  believe  it.  I  have  seen 
him. 

He  only  said,  "  Yes,  sir." 

Mrs.  Blake  did  not  keep  a  girl.  The  minister  did 
not  get  a  small  fortune  of  a  salary.  So  it  happened 
that  Willie  knew  pretty  well  how  to  keep  house. 
He  was  a  good  brave  boy,  never  ashamed  to  help 
his  mother  in  a  right  manly  way.  He  could  wash 
dishes  and  milk  the  cow,  and  often,  when  mamma 
had  a  sick-headache,  had  he  gotten  a  good  breakfast, 
never  forgetting  tea  and  toast  for  the  invalid. 

So  Sancho,  the  Canadian  pony,  was  harnessed  to 
the  minister's  rusty  buggy,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blake 
got  in  and  told  the  children  good-bye.  Then  San- 
cho started  off,  and  had  gone  about  ten  steps,  when 
he  was  suddenly  reined  up  with  a  "  Whoa  1 " 

"  Willie  !  "  said  Mr.  Blake. 

"  Sir." 

"  Be  careful  about  fire." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

And  then  old  blackey-brown  Sancho  moved  on 
in  a  gentle  trot,  and  Willie  and  Helen  and  Richard 


24  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

went  into  the  house,  where  Curlypate  had  already 
gone,  and  where  they  found  her  on  tiptoe,  with  her 
short  little  fingers  in  the  sugar-bowl,  trying  in  vain 
to  find  a  lump  that  would  not  go  to  pieces  in  the 
vigorous  squeeze  that  she  gave  it  in  her  desire  to 
make  sure  of  it. 

So  Willie  washed  the  dishes,  while  Helen  wiped 
them,  and  Richard  put  them  away,  and  they  had  a 
'merry  time,  though  Willie  had  to  soothe  several 
rising  disputes  between  Helen  and  Richard.  Then 
a  glorious  lot  of  wood  was  gotten  in,  and  Helen 
came  near  sweeping  a  hole  in  the  carpet  in  her  eager 
desire  to  "  surprise  mamma."  Curlypate  went  in 
the  parlor  and  piled  things  up  in  a  wonderful  way, 
declaring  that  she,  too,  was  going  to  "  susprise  mam- 
ma." And  doubtless  mamma  would  have  felt  no 
little  surprise  if  she  could  have  seen  the  parlor  after 
Curlypate  "put  it  to  rights." 

Later  in  the  evening  the  cow  was  milked,  and  a 
plain  supper  of  bread  and  milk  eaten.  Then  Rich- 
ard and  Curlypate  were  put  away  for  the  night. 
And  presently  Helen,  who  was  bravely  determined 
to  keep  Willie  company,  found  her  head  trying  to 
drop  off  her  shoulders,  and  so  she  had  to  give  up 
to  the  *c  sand  man,"  and  go  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  WALKING-STICK  A   TALKING  STICK. 

^ILLIE  was  now  all  by  himself.  He  put  on 
more  wood,  and  drew  the  rocking-chair  up 
by  the  fire,  and  lay  back  in  it.  It  was  very 
still  ;  he  could  hear  every  mouse  that  moved.  The 
stillness  seemed  to  settle  clear  down  to  his  heart. 
Presently  a  wagon  went  clattering  by.  Then,  as  the 
sound  died  away  in  the  distance,  it  seemed  stiller 
than  ever.  Willie  tried  to  sleep;  but  he  couldn't. 
He  kept  listening  ;  and  after  all  he  was  listening  to 
nothing;  nothing  but  that  awful  clock,  that  would 
keep  up  such  a  tick-tick,  tick-tick,  tick-tick.  The 
curtains  were  down,  and  Willie  didn't  dare  to  raise 
them,  or  to  peep  out.  He  could  feel  how  dark  it 
was  out  doors. 

But  presently  he  forgot  the  stillness.  He  fell  to 
thinking  of  what  Mr.  Blake  had  said  at  dinner.  He 
thought  of  poor  old  rheumatic  Parm'ly,  and  her 
single  bucket  of  coat  at  a  time.  He  thought  of  the 


26  Mr.  £  lake's  Walking- Stick. 

blind  broom-maker  who  needed  a  broom-machine, 
and  of  the  poor  widow  whose  children  must  be  taken 
away  because  the  mother  had  no  sewing-machine. 
All  of  these  thoughts  made  the  night  seem  dark,  and 
they  made  Willie's  heart  heavy.  But  the  thoughts 
kept  him  company. 

Then  he  wished  he  was  rich,  and  he  thought  if  he 
were  as  rich  as  Captain  Purser,  who  owned  the  mill, 
he  would  giye  away  sewing-machines  to  all  poor 
widows  who  needed  them.  But  pshaw  !  what  was 
the  use  of  wishing  ?  His  threadbare  pantaloons  told 
him  how  far  off  he  was  from  being  rich. 

But  he  would  go  to  the  Polytechnic  ;  he  would 
become  a  civil  engineer.  He  would  make  a  fortune 
some  day  when  he  became  celebrated.  Then  he 
would  give  widow  Martin  a  sewing-machine.  This 
was  the  nice  castle  in  the  air  that  Willie  built.  But 
just  as  he  put  on  the  last  stone  a  single  thought 
knocked  it  down. 

What  would  become  of  the  widow  and  her  chil- 
dren while  he  was  learning  to  be  an  engineer  and 
making  a  fortune  afterward  ?  And  where  would  he 
get  the  money  to  go  to  the  Polytechnic  ?  This  last 
question  Willie  had  asked  every  day  for  a  year  or 
two  past. 


The  Walking-Stick  a  Talking  Stick.  27 

Unable  to  solve  this  problem,  his  head  grew  tired, 
and  he  lay  down  on  the  lounge,  saying  to  himself, 
"  Something  must  be  done  !  " 

"  Something  must  be  done ! "  Willie  was  sure 
somebody  spoke.  He  looked  around.  There  was 
nobody  in  the  room. 

"  Something  must  be  done ! "  This  time  he  saw 
in  the  corner  of  the  room,  barely  visible  in  the 
shadow,  his  father's  cane.  The  voice  seemed  to 
come  from  that  corner. 

"Something  MUST  be  done!"  Yes,  it  was  the 
cane.  He  could  see  its  "yellow  head,  and  the  face 
on  one  side  was  toward  him.  How  bright  its  eyes 
were  !  It  did  not  occur  to  Willie  just  then  that 
there  was  anything  surprising  in  the  fact  that  the 
walking-stick  had  all  at  once  become  a  talking 
stick. 

"Something  MUST  be  done!"  said  the  cane, 
lifting  its  one  foot  up  and  bringing  it  down  with 
emphasis  at  the  word  must.  Willie  felt  pleased 
that  the  little  old  man  —  I  mean  the  walking-stick 
—  should  come  to  his  help. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Old  Ebony,  hopping  out 
of  his  shady  corner ;  "  I  tell  you  what,"  it  said,  and 
then  stopped  as  if  to  reflect ;  then  finished  by  say- 
ing, "  It's  a  shame  !  " 


28  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

Willie  was  about  to  ask  the  cane  to  what  he  re- 
ferred, but  he  thought  best  to  wait  till  Old  Ebony 
got  ready  to  tell  of  his  own  accord.  But  the  walk- 
ing-stick did  not  think  best  to  answer  immediately, 
but  took  entirely  a  new  and  surprising  track.  It 
actually  went  to  quoting  Scripture  ! 

"  My  eyes  are  dim,"  said  the  cane,  "  and  I  never 
had  much  learning ;  canes  weren't  sent  to  school 
when  I  was  young.  Won't  you  read  the  thirty-fifth 
verse  of  the  twentieth  chapter  of  Acts." 

Willie  turned  to  the  stand  and  saw  the  Bible  open 
at  that  verse.  He  did  not  feel  surprised.  It  seemed 
natural  enough  to  him.  He  read  the  verse,  not 
aloud,  but  to  himself,  for  Old  Ebony  seemed  to  hear 
his  thoughts.  He  read  :  — 

"  Ye  ought  to  support  the  weak,  and  to  remem- 
ber the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  how  he  said,  It  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 

"  Now,"  said  the  walking-stick,  stepping  or  hop- 
ping up  toward  the  lounge  and  leaning  thoughtfully 
over  the  head  of  it,  "  Now,  I  say  that  it  is  a  shame 
that  when  the  birthday  of  that  Lord  Jesus,  who 
gave  himself  away,  and  who  said  it  is  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive,  comes  round,  all  -of  you 
Sunday-school  scholars  are  thinking  only  of  what 
you  are  going  to  get." 


The  Walking-Stick  a  Talking  Stick.  29 

Willie  was  about  to  say  that  they  gave  as  well  as 
received  on  Christmas,  and  that  his  class  had  already 
raised  the  money  to  buy  a  Bible  Dictionary  for  their 
teacher.  But  Old  Ebony  seemed  to  guess  his 
thought,  and  he  only  said,  "  And  that's  another 
shame  !  " 

Willie  couldn't  see  how  this  could  be,  and  he 
thought  the  walking-stick  was  using  very  strong  lan- 
guage indeed.  I  think  myself  the  cane  spoke  too 
sharply,  for  I  don't  think  the  harm  lies  in  giving  to 
and  receiving  from  our  friends,  but  in  neglecting  the 
poor.  But  you  don't  care  what  I  think,  you  want  to 
know  what  the  cane  said. 

"  I'm  pretty  well  acquainted  with  Scripture,"  said 
Old  Ebony,  "  having  spent  fourteen  years  in  com- 
pany with  a  minister.  Now  won't  you  please  read 
the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  verses  of  the  fourteenth 
chapter  of"  — 

But  before  the  cane  could  finish  the  sentence, 
Willie  heard  some  one  opening  the  door.  It  was 
his  father.  He  looked  round  in  bewilderment.  The 
oil  in  the  lamp  had  burned  out,  and  it  was  dark. 
The  fire  was  low,  and  the  room  chilly. 

"  Heigh-ho,  Willie,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Blake, 
"  where's  your  light,  and  where's  your  fire.  This  is 
a  cold  reception.  What  have  you  been  doing?  " 


30  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

"Listening  to  the  cane  talk/'  he  replied  ;  and 
thinking  what  a  foolish  answer  that  was,  he  put  on 
some  more  coal,  while  his  mother,  who  was  lighting 
the  lamp,  said  he  must  have  been  dreaming.  The 
walking-stick  stood  in  its  corner,  face  to  the  wall,  as 
if  it  had  never  been  a  talking  stick. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MR.  BLAKE  AGREES   WITH   THE    WALKING-STICK. 

ARLY  on  Sunday  morning  Willie  awoke 
and  began  to  think  about  Sitles,  and  to 
wish  he  had  money  to  buy  him  a  broom- 
machine.  And  then  he  thought  of  widow  Martin. 
But  all  his  thinking  would  do  no  good.  Then  he 
thought  of  what  Old  Ebony  had  said,  and  he  wished 
he  could  know  what  that  text  was  that  the  cane  was 
just  going  to  quote. 

"  It  was,"  said  Willie,  "the  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
verses  of  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  something.  I'D 
see." 

So  he  began  with  the  beginning  of  the  Bible,  arid 
looked  first  at  Genesis  xiv.  12,  13.  But  it  was  about 
the  time  when  Abraham  had  heard  of  the  capture  of 
Lot  and  mustered  his  army  to  recapture  him.  He 
thought  a  minute. 

u  That  can't  be  what  it  is,"  said  Willie,  "  I'll  look 
at  Exodus." 


32  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

f 

In  Exodus  it  was  about  standing  still  at  the  Red 

Sea  and  waiting  for  God's  salvation.  It  might  mean 
that  God  would  deliver  the  poor.  But  that  was  not 
just  what  the  cane  was  talking  about.  It  was  about 
giving  gifts  to  friends.  So  he  went  on  to  Leviticus. 
But  it  was  about  the  wave  offering,  and  the  sin 
offering,  and  the  burnt  offering.  That  was  not  it. 
And  so  he  went  from  book  to  book  until  he  had 
reached  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  verses  of  the  four- 
teenth chapter  of  the  book  of  Judges.  He  was  just 
reading  in  that  place  about  Samson's  riddle,  when 
his  mamma  called  him  to  breakfast. 

He  was  afraid  4to  say  anything  about  it  at  the 
table  for  fear  of  being  laughed  at.  But  he  was  full  of 
what  the  walking-stick  said.  And  at  family  worship 
his  father  read  the  twentieth  chapter  of  Acts.  When 
he  came  to  the  part  about  its  being  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive,  Willie  said,  "  That's  what  the 
cane  said." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  his  father. 

"  I  was  only  thinking  out  loud,"  said  Willie. 

"  Don't  think  out  loud  while  I  am  reading,"  said 
Mr.  Blake. 

Willie  did  not  find  time  to  look  any  further  for 
the  other  verses.  He  wished  his  father  had  hap- 


Mr.  Blake  agrees  with  the  Walking- Stick.      33 

pened  on  them  instead  of  the  first  text  which  the 
cane  quoted. 

In  church  he  kept  thinking  all  the  time  about  the 
cane.  "  Now  what  could  it  mean  by  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  verses  of  the  fourteenth  chapter  ? 
There  isn't  anything  in  the  Bible  against  giving 
away  presents  to  one's  friends.  It  was  only  a  dream 
anyhow,  and  maybe  there's  nothing  in  it." 

But  he  forgot  the  services,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  in 
his  thoughts.  At  last  Mr.  Blake  arose  to  read  his 
text.  Willie  looked  at  him,  but  thought  of  what  the 
cane  said.  But  what  was  it  that  attracted  his  atten- 
tion so  quickly  ? 

"  The  twelfth  and  thirteenth  verses  "  — 

"  Twelfth  and  thirteenth  !  "  said  Willie  to  him- 
self. 

"  Of  the  fourteenth  chapter,"  said  the  minister. 

"  Fourteenth  chapter !  "  said  Willie,  almost  aloud. 

"  Of  Luke." 

Willie  was  all  ears,  while  Mr.  Blake  read  :  "Then 
said  he  also  to  him  that  bade  him,  When  thou  mak- 
est  a  dinner  or  a  supper,  call  not  thy  friends,  nor 
thy  brethren,  neither  thy  kinsmen,  nor  thy  rich 
neighbors,  lest  they  also  bid  thee  again,  and  a 
recompense  be  made  thee.  But  when  thou  makest 
3 


34  Mr.  Blake's  Wai  king- Stick. 

a  feast,  call  the  poor,  the  maimed,  the  lame,  the 
blind." 

"  That's  it !  "  he  said,  half  aloud,  but  his  mother 
jogged  him. 

The  minister  added  the  next  verse  also,  and  read : 
"  And  thou  shalt  be  blessed,  for  they  cannot  recom- 
pense thee  ;  for  thou  shalt  be  recompensed  at  the 
resurrection  of  the  just." 

Willie  had  never  listened  to  a  sermon  as  he  did 
to  that.  He  stopped  two  or  three  times  to  wonder 
whether  the  cane  had  been  actually  about  to  repeat 
his  father's  text  to  him,  or  whether  he  had  not  heard 
his  father  repeat  it  at  some  time,  and  had  dreamed 
about  it. 

I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  much  about  Mr. 
Blake's  sermon.  It  was  a  sermon  that  he  and  the 
walking-stick  had  prepared  while  they  were  going 
round  among  the  poor.  I  think  Mr.  Blake  did  not 
strike  his  cane  down  on  the  sidewalk  for  nothing. 
Most  of  that  sermon  must  have  been  hammered  out 
in  that  way,  when  he  and  the  walking-stick  were 
saying,  "  Something  must  be  done  !  "  For  that  was 
just  what  that  sermon  said.  It  told  about  the  wrong 
of  forgetting,  on  the  birthday  of  Christ,  to  do  any- 
thing for  the  poor.  It  made  everybody  think.  But 


Mr.  Blake  agrees  with  the  Walking- Stick.       35 

Mr.  Blake  did  not  know  how  much  of  that  ser- 
mon went  into  Willie  Blake's  long  head,  as  he  sat 
there  with  his  white  full  forehead  turned  up  to  his 
father. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  FATHER   PREACHES  AND    THE  SON  PRACTICES. 

HAT  afternoon,  Willie  was  at  Sunday-school 
long  before  the  time.     He  had  a  plan. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  boys,"  said  he, 
"•let's  not  give  Mr.  Marble  anything  this  year; 
and  let's  ask  him  not  to  give  us  anything.  Let's 
get  him  to  put  the  money  he  would  use  for  us  with 
the  money  we  should  spend  on  a  present  for  him, 
and  give  it  to  buy  coal  for  Old  Aunt  Parm'ly." 

"I  mean  to  spend  all  my  money  on  soft  gum 
drops  and  tarts,"  said  Tommy  Puffer ;  "  they're 
splendid  !  "  and  with  that  he  began,  as  usual,  to  roll 
his  soft  lips  together  in  a  half  chewing,  half  sucking 
manner,  as  if  he  had  a  half  dozen  cream  tarts  under 
his  tongue,  and  two  dozen  gum  drops  in  his  cheeks. 

"  Tommy,"  said  stumpy  little  Sammy  Bantam, 
"  it's  a  good  thing  you  didn't  live  in  Egypt,  Tommy, 
in  the  days  of  Joseph." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Tommy. 


Father  Preaches  and  Son  Practices.  37 

"Because,"  said  Sammy,  looking  around  the  room 
absently,  as  if  he  hardly  knew  what  he  was  going 
to  say,  "  because,  you  see  "  —  and  then  he  opened 
a  book  and  began  to  read,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  to 
finish  the  sentence. 

u  Well,  why?"  demanded  Tommy,  sharply. 

"Well,  because  if  Joseph  had  had  to  feed  you 
during  the  seven  years  of  plenty,  there  wouldn't 
have  been  a  morsel  left  for  the  years  of  famine  !  " 

The  boys  laughed  as  boys  will  at  a  good  shot,  and 
Tommy  reddened  a  little  and  said,  regretfully,  that 
he  guessed  the  Egyptians  hadn't  any  doughnuts. 

Willie  did  not  forget  his  main  purpose,  but  car- 
ried his  point  in  his  own  class.  He  still  had  time  to 
speak  to  some  of  the  boys  and  girls  in  other  classes. 
Everybody  liked  to  do  what  Willie  asked  ;  there  was 
something  sweet  and  strong  in  his  blue  eyes,  eyes 
that  u  did  not  seem  to  have  any  bottom,  they  were 
so  deep,"  one  of  the  girls  said.  Soon  there  was  an 
excitement  in  the  school,  and  about  the  door  ;  girls 
and  boys  talking  and  discussing,  but  as  soon  as  any 
opposition  came  up  Willie's  half  coaxing  but  decided 
way  bore  it  down.  I  think  he  was  much  helped  by 
Sammy's  wit,  which  was  all  on  his  side.  It  was 
agreed,  finally,  that  whatever  scholars  meant  to  give 


38  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

to  teachers,  or  teachers  to  scholars,  should  go  to  the 
poor. 

The  teachers  caught  the  enthusiasm,  and  were 
very  much  in  favor  of  the  project,  for  in  the  whole 
movement  they  saw  the  fruit  of  their  own  teaching. 

The  superintendent  had  been  detained,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  the  school  standing  in  knots  about 
the  room.  He  soon  called  them  to  order,  and  ex- 
pressed his  regrets  that  they  should  get  into  such 
disorder.  There  was  a  smile  on  all  faces,  and  he 
saw  that  there  was  something  more  in  the  apparent 
disorder  than  he  thought.  After  school  it  was  fixed 
that  each  class  should  find  its  own  case  of  poverty. 
The  young  men's  and  the  young  women's  Bible 
classes  undertook  to  supply  Sitles  with  a  broom- 
machine,  a  class  of  girls  took  Aunt  Parm'ly  under 
their  wing,  other  classes  knew  of  other  cases  of  need, 
and  so  each  class  had  its  hands  full.  But  Willie 
could  not  get  any  class  to  see  that  Widow  Martin 
had  a  sewing-machine.  That  was  left  for  his  own  j 
and  how  should  a  class  of  eight  boys  do  it  ? 


CHAPTER   VI. 


SIXTY-FIVE  DOLLARS. 

H|ILLIE  took  the  boys  into  the  parsonage. 
They  figured  on  it.  There  were  sixty-five 
dollars  to  be  raised  to  buy  the  machine. 
The  seven  boys  were  together,  for  Tommy  Puffer  had 
gone  home.  He  said  he  didn't  feel  like  staying, 
and  Sammy  Bantam  thought  he  must  be  a  little 
hungry. 

Willie  attacked  the  problem,  sixty-five  dollars. 
Toward  that  amount  they  had  three  dollars  and 
a  half  that  they  had  intended  to  spend  on  a  present 
for  Mr.  Marble.  That  left  just  sixty-one  dollars  and 
fifty  cents  to  be  raised.  Willie  ran  across  the  street 
and  brought  Mr.  Marble.  He  said  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  give  the  boys  a  book  apiece,  and  that 
each  book  would  cost  a  dollar.  It  was  rather  more 
than  he  could  well  afford  ;  but  as  he  had  intended  to 
give  eight  dollars  for  their  presents,  and  as  he  was 


40  Mr.  Blake's  Walking-Stick. 

pleased  with  their  unselfish  behavior,  he  would 
make  it  ten. 

"  Good ! "  said  Charley  Somerset,  who  always  saw 
the  bright  side  of  things,  "  that  makes  it  all,  except 
fifty-one  dollars  and  a  half." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sammy  Bantam,  a  and  you're  eleven 
feet  high,  lacking  a  couple  of  yards  !  " 

Willie  next  called  his  father  in,  and  inquired  how 
much  his  Christmas  present  was  to  cost. 

"  Three  and  a  half,"  said  his  father. 

"That's  a  lot!  Will  you  give  me  the  money  in- 
stead ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  meant  to  give  you  a  Life  of  George 
Stephenson,  and  some  other  books  on  engineering." 

This  made  Willie  think  a  moment ;  but  seeing  the 
walking-stick  in  the  corner,  he  said  :  u  Mrs.  Martin 
must  have  a  machine,  and  that  three  and  a  half 
makes  seventeen  dollars.  How  to  get  the  other 
forty-eight  is  the  question." 

Mr.  Blake  and  Mr.  Marble  both  agreed  that  the 
boys  could  not  raise  so  much  money,  and  should  not 
undertake  it.  But  Willie  said  there  was  nobody  to 
do  it,  and  he  guessed  it  would  come  somehow.  The 
other  boys,  when  they  came  to  church  that  evening, 
told  Willie  that  their  presents  were  commuted  for 


Sixty-five  Dollars.  41 

money  also ;  so  they  had  twenty-five  dollars  toward 
the  amount.  But  that  was  the  end  of  it,  and  there 
were  forty  dollars  yet  to  come ! 

Willie  lay  awake  that  night,  thinking.  Mr.  Mar- 
ble's class  could  not  raise  the  money.  All  the  other 
classes  had  given  all  they  could.  And  the  teachers 
would  each  give  in  their  classes.  And  they  had 
raised  all  they  could  spare  besides  to  buy  nuts  and 
candy!  Good!  That  was  just  it;  they  would  do 
without  candy  ! 

At  school  the  next  morning,  Willie's  white  head 
was  bobbing  about  eagerly.  He  made  every  boy 
and  girl  sign  a  petition,  asking  the  teachers  not  to 
give  them  any  nuts  or  candy.  They  all  signed 
except  Tommy  Puffer.  He  said  it  was  real  mean 
not  to  have  any  candy.  They  might  just  as  well 
not  have  any  Sunday-school,  or  any  Christmas 
either.  But  seeing  a  naughty  twinkle  in  Sammy 
Bantam's  eye,  he  waddled  away,  while  Sammy  fired 
a  shot  after  him,  by  remarking  that,  if  Tommy  had 
been  one  of  the  Shepherds  in  Bethlehem,  he 
wouldn't  have  listened  to  the  angels  till  he  had 
inquired  if  they  had  any  lemon-drops  in  their 
pockets  ! 


42  Mr.  Blakjs  Walking- Stick. 

That  night  the  extra  Teachers*  Meeting  was  held, 
and  in  walked  white-headed  Willie  with  stunted 
Sammy  Bantam  at  his  heels  to  keep  him  in  counte- 
nance. When  their  petition  was  presented,  Miss 
Belden,  who  sat  near  Willie,  said,  "  Well  done ! 
Willie." 

"  But  I  protest,"  said  Mrs.  Puffer,  —  who  was  of 
about  as  handsome  a  figure  as  her  son,  —  "I  protest 
against  such  an  outrage  on  the  children.  My  Tom- 
my's been  a-feeling  bad  about  it  all  day.  It'll  break 
his  heart  if  he  don't  get  some  candy." 

Willie  was  shy,  but  for  a  moment  he  forgot  it, 
and,  turning  his  intelligent  blue  eyes  on  Mrs.  Puffer, 
he  said,  — 

"  It  will  break  Mrs.  Martin's  heart  if  her  children 
are  taken  away  from  her." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Puffer,  "  I  always  did  hear  that 
the  preacher's  boy  was  the  worst  in  the  parish,  and 
I  won't  take  any  impudence.  My  son  will  join  the 
Mission  School,  where  they  aren't  too  stingy  to 
give  him  a  bit  of  candy !  "  And  Mrs.  Puffer  left, 
and  everybody  was  pleased. 

"  Willie  got  the  money  ;  but  the  teachers  had 
counted  on  making  up  their  festival  mostly  with 


Sixty-five  Dollars.  43 

cakes  and  other  dainties,  contributed  by  families. 
So  that  the  candy  money  was  only  sixteen  dollars, 
and  Willie  was  yet  a  long  way  off  from  having  the 
amount  he  needed.  Twenty-four  dollars  were  yet 
wanting. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE    WIDOW  AND   THE  FATHERLESS. 

HE  husband  of  widow  Martin  had  been 
killed  by  a  railroad  accident.  The  family 
were  very  poor.  Mrs.  Martin  could  sew, 
and  she  could  have  sustained  her  family  if  she  had 
had  a  machine.  But  fingers  are  not  worth  much 
against  iron  wheels.  And  so,  while  others  had  ma- 
chines, Mrs.  Martin  could  not  make  much  without 
one.  She  had  been  obliged  to  ask  help  from  the 
overseer  of  the  poor. 

Mr  Lampeer,  the  overseer,  was  a  hard  man.  He 
had  not  skill  enough  to  detect  impostors,  and  so  he 
had  come  to  believe  that  everybody  who  was  poor 
was  rascally.  He  had  but  one  eye,  and  he  turned 
his  head  round  in  a  curious  way  to  look  at  you  out 
of  it.  That  dreadful  one  eye  always  seemed  to  be 
going  to  shoot.  His  voice  had  not  a  chord  of  tender- 
ness in  it,  but  was  in  every  way  harsh  and  hard.  It 


The  Widow  and  the  Fatherless.  45 

was  said  that  he  had  been  a  schoolmaster  once.  I 
pity  the  scholars. 

Widow  Martin  lived  —  if  you  could  call  it  living 
—  in  a  tumble-down  looking  house,  that  would  not 
have  stood  many  earthquakes.  She  had  tried  dili- 
gently to  support  her  family  and  keep  them  together ; 
but  the  wolf  stood  always  at  the  door.  Sewing  by 
hand  did  not  bring  in  quite  money  enough  to  buy 
bread  and  clothes  for  four  well  children,  and  pay 
the  expenses  of  poor  little  Harry's  sickness ;  for  all 
through  the  summer  and  fall  Harry  had  been  sick. 
At  last  the  food  was  gone,  and  there  was  nothing 
to  buy  fuel  with.  Mrs.  Martin  had  to  go  to  the 
overseer  of  the  poor. 

She  was  a  little,  shy,  hard-working  woman,  this 
Mrs.  Martin  ;  so  when  she  took  her  seat  among  the 
paupers  of  every  sort  in  Mr.  Lampeer's  office,  and 
waited  her  turn,  it  was  with  a  trembling  heart.  She 
watched  the  hard  man,  who  didn't  mean  to  be  so 
hard,  but  who  couldn't  tell  the  difference  between 
a  good  face  and  a  counterfeit ;  she  watched  him  as 
he  went  through  with  the  different  cases,  and  her 
heart  beat  every  minute  more  and  more  violently. 
When  he  came  to  her  he  broke  out  with  — 

"  What's  your  name  ?  "  in  a  voice  that  sounded 


46  Mr.  Blake's  Walking-Stick. 

for  all  the  world  as  if  he  were  accusing  her  of  rob- 
bing a  safe. 

"  Sarah  Martin,"  said  the  widow,  trembling  with 
terror,  and  growing  red  and  white  in  turns.  Mr. 
Lampeer,  who  was  on  the  lookout  for  any  sign  of 
guiltiness,  was  now  sure  that  Mrs.  Martin  could  not 
be  honest. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  This  was  spoken  with  a 
half  sneer. 

"  In  Slab  Alley,"  whispered  the  widow,  for  her 
voice  was  scared  out  of  her. 

"  How  many  children  have  you  got  ?  " 

Mrs.  Martin  gave  him  the  list  of  her  five,  with 
their  ages,  telling  him  of  little  Harry,  who  was  six 
years  old  and  an  invalid. 

"  Your  oldest  is  twelve  and  a  girl.  I  have  a  place 
for  her,  and,  I  think,  for  the  boy,  too.  You  must 
bind  them  out.  Mr.  Slicker,  the  landlord  of  the 
Farmers'  Hotel,  will  take  the  girl,  and  I  think  James 
Sweeny  will  take  the  boy  to  run  errands  about  the 
livery  stable.  I'll  send  you  some  provisions  and 
coal  to-day ;  but  you  must  let  the  children  go.  I'll 
come  to  your  house  in  a  few  days.  Don't  object;  I 
won't  hear  a  word.  If  you're  as  poor  as  you  let  on 
to  be,  you'll  be  glad  enough  to  get  your  young  ones 


The  Widow  and  the  Fatherless.  47 

into  places  where  they'll  get  enough  to  eat.  That's 
all,  not  a  word,  now."  And  he  turned  to  the  next 
applicant,  leaving  the  widow  to  go  home  with  her 
heart  so  cold. 

Let  Susie  go  to  Slicker's  tavern  !  What  kind  of  a 
house  would  it  be  without  her?  Who  would  attend 
to  the  house  while  she  sewed  ?  And  what  would 
become  of  her  girl  in  such  a  place  ?  And  then  to 
send  George,  who  had  to  wait  on  Harry,  to  send 
him  away  forever  was  to  shut  out  all  hope  of  ever 
being  in  better  circumstances.  Then  she  could  not 
sew,  and  the  children  could  never  help  her.  God 
pity  the  people  that  fall  into  the  hands  of  public 
charity ! 

The  next  few  days  wore  heavily  on  with  the 
widow.  What  to  do  she  did  not  know.  At  night 
she  scarcely  slept  at  all.  When  she  did  drop  into  a 
sleep,  she  dreamed  that  her  children  were  starving, 
and  woke  in  fright.  Then  she  slept  again,  and 
dreamed  that  a  one-eyed  robber  had  gotten  in  at  the 
window,  and  was  carrying  off  Susie  and  George. 
At  last  morning  came.  The  last  of  the  food  was 
eaten  for  breakfast,  and  widow  Martin  sat  down  to 
wait.  Her  mind  was  in  a  horrible  state  of  doubt. 
To  starve  to  death  together,  or  to  give  up  her  chil- 


48  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

dren  !  That  was  the  question  which  many  a  poor 
mother's  heart  has  had  to  decide.  Mrs.  Martin  soon 
became  so  nervous  she  could  not  sew.  She  could 
not  keep  back  the  tears,  and  when  Susie  and  George 
put  their  arms  about  her  neck  and  asked  what  was 
the  matter,  it  made  the  matter  worse.  It  was  the 
day  before  Christinas.  The  sleigh-bells  jingled  mer- 
rily. Even  in  Slab  Alley  one  could  hear  sounds  of 
joy  at  the  approaching  festivities.  But  there  was 
no  joy  in  Widow  Martin's  house  or  heart.  The 
dinner  hour  had  come  and  passed.  The  little  chil- 
dren were  hungry.  And  yet  Mrs.  Martin  had  not 
made  up  her  mind. 

At  the  appointed  time  Lampeer  came.  He  took 
out  the  two  indentures  with  which  the  mother  was 
to  sign  away  all  right  to  her  two  eldest  children.  It 
was  in  vain  that  the  widow  told  him  that  if  she  lost 
them  she  could  do  no  work  for  her  own  support,  and 
must  be  forever  a  pauper.  Lampeer  had  an  idea 
that  no  poor  person  had  a  right  to  love  children. 
Parental  love  was,  in  his  eyes,  or  his  eye,  an  expen- 
sive luxury  that  none  but  the  rich  should  indulge  in. 

"Mrs.  Martin,"  he  said,  "you  may  either  sign 
these  indentures,  by  which  your  girl  will  get  a  good 
place  as  a  nurse  and  errand  girl  for  the  tavern- 


The  Widow  and  the  Fatherless.  49 

keeper's  wife,  and  your  boy  will  have  plenty  to  eat 
and  get  to  be  a  good  hostler,  or  you  and  your  brats 
may  starve !  "  With  that  he  took  his  hat  and  opened 
the  door. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Mrs.  Martin,  "  I  must  have  medi- 
cine and  food,  or  Harry  will  not  live  till  Sunday.  I 
will  sign." 

The  papers  were  again  spread  out.  The  poor- 
master  jerked  the  folds  out  of  them  impatiently,  in  a 
way  that  seemed  to  say,  "  You  keep  me  an  uncon- 
scionable long  time  about  a  very  small  matter." 

When  the  papers  were  spread  out,  Mrs.  Martin's 
two  oldest  children,  who  began  to  understand  what 
was  going  on,  cried  bitterly.  Mrs.  Martin  took  the 
pen  and  was  about  to  sign.  But  it  was  necessary  to 
have  two  witnesses,  and  so  Lampeer  took  his  hat  and 
called  a  neighbor-woman,  for  the  second  witness. 

Mrs.  Martin  delayed  the  signature  as  long  as  she 
could.  But  seeing  no  other  help,  she  took  up  the 
pen.  She  thought  of  Abraham  with  the  knife  in  his 
hand.  She  hoped  that  an  angel  would  call  out  of 
heaven  to  her  relief.  But  as  there  was  no  voice  from 
heaven,  she  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink. 

Just  then  some  one  happened  to  knock  at  the  door, 
and  the  poor  woman's  nerves  were  so  weak  that  she 
4 


50    •  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

let  the  pen  fall,  and   sank  into  a  chair.     Lampeer, 
who  stood  near  the  door,  opened  it  with  an  impatient 
jerk,  and  —  did  the  angel  of  deliverance  enter  ? 
It  was  only  Willie  Blake  and  Sammy  Bantam. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SHARPS  AND  BETWEENS. 

ET  us  go  back.  We  left  Willie  awhile  ago 
puzzling  over  that  twenty-four  dollars. 
After  many  hours  of  thought  and  talk 
with  Sammy  about  how  they  should  manage  it,  two 
gentlemen  gave  them  nine  dollars,  and  so  there  was 
but  fifteen  more  to  be  raised.  But  that  fifteen 
seemed  harder  to  get  than  the  fifty  they  had  already 
gotten.  At  last  Willie  thought  of  something.  They 
would  try  the  sewing-machine  man.  Mr.  Sharps 
would  throw  off  fifteen  dollars. 

But  they  did  not  know  Mr.  Sharps.  Though  he 
made  more  than  fifteen  dollars  on  the  machine,  he 
hated  to  throw  anything  off.  He  was  always  glad  to 
put  on.  Sammy  described  him  by  saying  that  "  Mr. 
Sharps  was  not  for-giving  but  he  was  for-getting." 

They  talked;  they  told  the  story;  they  begged. 
Mr.  Sharps  really  could  not  afford  to  throw  off  a 
cent.  He  was  poor.  Taxes  were  high.  He  gave  a 


52  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

great  deal.  (I  do  not  know  what  he  called  a  great 
deal.  He  had  been  to  church  three  times  in  a  year, 
and  twice  he  had  put  a  penny  in  the  plate.  I  sup- 
pose Mr.  Sharps  thought  that  a  great  deal  And  so 
it  was,  for  him,  poor  fellow.)  And  then  the  butcher 
had  raised  the  price  of  meat ;  and  he  had  to  pay 
twenty-three  dollars  for  a  bonnet  for  his  daughter. 
Really,  he  was  too  poor.  So  the  boys  went  away 
down-hearted. 

But  Sammy  went  straight  to  an  uncle  of  his,  who 
was  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Thornton  Daily  Bugle. 
After  a  private  talk  with  him  he  started  back  to  Mr. 
Sharps.  Willie  followed  Sammy  this  time.  What 
Sammy  had  in  his  head  Willie  could  not  make  out. 

"  I'll  fix  him  !  "  That  was  the  only  word  Sammy 
uttered  on  the  way  back. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Sharps,"  he  began,  "  my  uncle's  name 
is  Josiah  Penn.  Maybe  you  know  him.  He's  one 
of  the  editors  of  the  Thornton  Daily  Bugle.  I've 
been  talking  with  him.  If  you  let  me  have  a  Feeler 
and  Stilson  sewing-machine  for  fifty  dollars,  I  will 
have  a  good  notice  put  in  the  Daily  Bugle." 

Mr.  Sharps  whistles  a  minute.  He  thought  he 
could  not  do  it.  No,  he  was  too  poor. 

"Well,    then,    Willie,"   said    Sammy,    "we'll    go 


Sharps  and  Bet  weens.  53 

across  the  street  and  try  the  agent  of  the  Hillrocks 
and  Nibbs  machine.  I  think  Mr.  Betweens  will 
take  my  offer." 

"O!"  said  Mr.  Sharps,  "you  don't  want  that 
machine.  It's  only  a  single  thread,  and  it  will  ravel, 
and  —  well  —  you  don't  want  that." 

"Indeed,  my  mother  says  there  isn't  a  pin  to 
choose  between  them,"  said  Sammy ;  "  and  I  can 
give  Mr.  Betweens  just  as  good  a  notice  as  I  could 
give  you." 

"  Very  well,  take  the  machine  for  fifty  dollars.  I 
do  it  just  out  of  pity  for  the  widow,  you  know.  I 
never  could  stand  by  and  see  suffering  and  not  re- 
lieve it.  You  won't  forget  about  that  notice  in  the 
Daily  Bugle,  though,  will  you  ? " 

No,  Sammy  wouldn't  forget. 

It  was  now  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  the 
boys  thought  they  had  better  get  the  machine  down 
there. 

So  they  found  Billy  Horton,  who  belonged  to 
their  class,  and  who  drove  an  express  wagon,  and 
told  him  about  it.  He  undertook  to  take  it  down. 
But  first,  he  drove  around  the  town  and  picked  up 
all  the  boys  of  the  class,  that  they  might  share  in 
the  pleasure. 


54  Mr.  Blake's  Wai  king- Stick. 

Meantime,  a  gentleman  who  had  heard  of  Willie's 
efforts,  gave  him  a  five  dollar  bill  for  widow  Martin. 
This  Willie  invested  in  provisions,  which  he  in- 
structed the  grocer  to  send  to  the  widow. 

He  and  Sammy  hurried  down  to  widow  Martin's, 
and  got  there,  as  I  told  you  in  the  last  chapter,  just 
as  she  was  about  to  sign  away  all  right,  title,  and 
interest  in  two  of  the  children  whom  God  had  given 
her ;  to  sign  them  away  at  the  command  of  the  hard 
Mr.  Lampeer,  who  was  very  much  irritated  that  he 
should  be  interrupted  just  at  the  moment  when  he 
was  about  to  carry  the  point ;  for  he  loved  to  carry 
a  point  better  than  to  eat  his  breakfast. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  ANGEL   STAYS   THE  HAND. 

5JHEN  the  boys  came  in,  they  told  the  widow 
that  they  wished  to  speak  with  little  sick 
Harry.  They  talked  to  Harry  awhile, 
without  noticing  what  was  going  on  in  the  other 
part  of  the  room. 

Presently  Willie  felt  his  arm  pulled.  Looking 
round,  he  saw  Susie's  tearful  face.  "  Please  don't 
let  mother  give  me  and  George  away."  Somehow 
all  the  children  in  school  had  the  habit  of  coming  to 
this  long-headed  Willie  for  help,  and  to  him  Susie 
came. 

That  word  of  Susie's  awakened  Willie.  Up  to 
that  moment  he  had  not  thought  what  Mr.  Lampeer 
was  there  for.  Now  he  saw  Mrs.  Martin  holding  the 
pen  with  trembling  hand,  and  making  motions  in 
the  air  preparatory  to  writing  her  name.  Most  peo- 
ple not  used  to  writing,  write  in  the  air  before  they 
touch  the  paper.  When  Willie  saw  this,  he  flew 


56  Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 

across  the  room  and  thrust  his  hand  upon  the  place 
where  the  name  ought  to  be,  saying,  — 

"  Don't  do  that,  Mrs.  Martin !  Don't  give  away 
your  children  !  " 

Poor  woman !  the  pen  dropped  from  her  hand  as 
the  knife  had  dropped  from  Abraham's.  She  grasped 
Willie's  arm,  saying,  — 

"  How  can  I  help  it  ?     Do  tell  me  !  " 

But  Lampeer  had  grasped  the  other  arm,  and 
broke  out  with  — 

"  You  rogue,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Willie's  fine  blue  eyes  turned  quickly  into  Lam- 
peer's  one  muddy  eye. 

u  Let  go  !  "  he  said,  very  quietly  but  very  deter- 
minedly, "  don't  strike  me,  or  my  father  will  take 
the  law  on  you." 

Lampeer  let  go. 

Just  then  the  groceries  came,  and  a  minute  later, 
Billy  Horton's  wagon  drove  up  with  the  machine, 
and  all  the  other  boys,  who  came  in  and  shook  hands 
with  the  poor  but  delighted  mother  and  her  children. 
I  cannot  tell  you  any  more  about  that  scene.  I  only 
know  that  Lampeer  went  out  angry  and  muttering. 


CHAPTER    X. 


TOMMY  PUFFER. 


ILLIE  was  happy  that  night.  He  went 
down  to  the  festival  at  the  Mission. 
There  was  Tommy  Puffer's  soft,  oyster- 
like  body  among  the  scholars  of  the  Mission.  He 
was  waiting  for  something  good.  His  mouth  and 
eyes  were  watering.  He  looked  triumphantly  at  the 
boys  from  the  other  school.  They  wouldn't  get  any- 
thing so  nice.  The  superintendent  announced  that 
no  boy's  name  would  be  called  for  a  paper  bag  of 
"  refreshments "  but  those  who  had  been  present 
two  Sundays.  And  so  poor  starving  Tommy  Puffer 
had  to  carry  his  pudding-bag  of  a  body  home  again 
without  a  chance  to  give  it  an  extra  stuffing. 


CHAPTER    XL 

AN  ODD  PARTY. 

CANNOT  tell  you  about  the  giving  of 
the  broom-machine  to  the  blind  broom- 
maker  ;  of  the  ton  of  coal  to  Parm'ly} 
and  of  all  the  other  things  that  happened  on 
Christmas  Day  when  the  presents  were  given.  I 
must  leave  these  things  out.  As  for  Aunt  Parm'ly, 
she  said  she  did  not  know,  but  dat  dare  coal  seemed 
like  it  come  from  de  sky. 

But  there  was  an  ample  feast  yet  for  the  boys  at 
the  Sunday-school,  for  many  biscuits,  and  cakes,  and 
pies  had  been  baked.  But  every  time  Willie  looked 
at  the  walking  stick  he  thought  of  "  the  poor,  the 
maimed,  the  lame,  and  the  blind."  And  so  he  and 
Sammy  Bantam  soon  set  the  whole  school,  teachers 
and  all,  a-fire  with  the  idea  of  inviting  in  the  inmates 
of  the  county  poor-house.  It  was  not  half  so  hard  to 
persuade  the  members  of  the  school  to  do  this  as  it 
was  to  coax  them  to  the  first  move  ;  for  when  people 


An   Odd  Party.  59 

have  found  out  how  good  it  is  to  do  good,  they  like 
to  do  good  again. 

Such  a  company  it  was  !  There  was  old  crazy 
Newberry,  who  had  a  game-bag  slung  about  his  neck, 
and  who  imagined  that  the  little  pebbles  in  it  were 
of  priceless  value.  Old  Dorothy,  who  was  nearly 
eighty,  and  who,  thanks  to  the  meanness  of  the  au- 
thorities, had  not  tasted  any  delicacy,  not  so  much 
as  a  cup  of  tea,  since  she  had  been  in  the  alms- 
house  ;  and  there  were  half-idiots,  and  whole  idiots, 
and  sick  people,  and  crippled  people,  armless  peo- 
ple and  legless  people,  blind  people  and  deaf.  Such 
an  assortment  of  men,  women,  and  little  children, 
you  cannot  often  find.  They  were  fed  with  the  good 
things  provided  for  the  Sunday-school  children,  much 
to  the  disgust  of  Tommy  Puffer  and  his  mother. 
For  Tommy  was  bent  on  getting  something  to  eat 
here. 

There  were  plenty  of  people  who  claimed  the 
credit  of  suggesting  this  way  of  spending  the  Christ- 
mas. But  Willie  did  not  say  anything  about  it,  for 
he  remembered  what  Christ  had  said  about  blowing 
a  trumpet  before  you.  But  I  think  Sammy  Bantam 
trumpeted  Willie's  fame  enough. 

It  would  be  hard  to  tell  who  enjoyed  the  Christ- 


6o 


Mr.  Blake's  Walking- Stick. 


mas  the  most.  But  I  think  the  givers  found  it  more 
blessed  than  the  receivers.  What  talk  Mr.  Blake 
heard  in  his  rounds  I  cannot  tell.  If  you  want  to 
know,  you  must  ask  the  Old  Ebony. 


CURRIC 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


280ct'52ED 


C'D 
010  IS  1958 


REC'D  LD 

APR   1B6Z 


LD  21-95m-ll,>50(2877sl6)476 


906806 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


